Finding Family
by Cha Oseye Tempest Thrain
Summary: What is the definition of family? Slash, but thematic only, nonexplicit. Not working off 'traditional' family definitions either. If you're allergic to Alt Universe... or ATu, I definitely suggest that this is not the story for you.DONE
1. The Conversation

Disclaimer: I don't own most of these characters. Ivy is mine… but that's because there was a logical gap in the Tucker lineage.

A/N: While this isn't slash fiction (I am _not_ sick enough to write slash from the P.O.V. of an eight year old) what happens behind the scenes (and out of her sight and hearing) just might be. Please, please… read and review.

**Chapter 1: The Conversation**

"I no longer wish to go to school." As usual, Mother and Lorien are too busy with their own conversation to hear me. Daddy does, however and his face twists in pain and shock. I suppose he feels that because I am only eight years old, that my decision is less than informed.

"Is something wrong, punkin?" He lays down his stylus and tells me how much he's worried. I know he would rather die than see me hurt, but it wouldn't change anything.

"Trip." Mother sees Daddy talking and breaks in. "Is there…"

"Ivy wants to quit school," he answers. Ivy, even though it's not my name. It's one of the few things that Daddy's overridden Mother on, and I love him for it. My real name is Charley – Charley Tucker IV to be precise, which is where Ivy comes in. I.V. if we're talking… but the sounds are the same.

"We have discussed this. You are to attend school." She begins a rational argument as to _why_ school is important. I don't want logic, I want a big bad old fashioned blow-out with all the fucks, shits and damns included. Mother would be upset at my language, but that's life. Lorien smiles his little smile, the one that says he's so superior to me.

Daddy knows better though… knows it's not about school at all – or at least not the lessons. "Are you still having a hard time, punk?"

I want to tell him… but I can't. Daddy loves us… I don't want to hurt him by letting him know that the hardest time comes from my own brother.

Done with her lecture, Mother turns back to Lorien, and begins to help him with his homework. Daddy steals his opportunity to get serious.

"It's not just about school, is it punkin?" His fingers fly gracefully through the words, as we begin a truly private conversation. Neither Mother nor Lorien have taken the time to learn my language; neither one wishes to deal with the fact that I am different from them… that I cannot make sounds when I speak.

I shake my head, trying not to let tears come into my eyes. Lorien always teases me when I cry… he says it's unseemly in a Vulcan. But I'm not a Vulcan – I may look like Mother but I'm Daddy's girl to the core. Daddy is full of emotion and expression – he does not lock it away, but wears it proudly on the surface. And lately… he's been more worn out, more tired, and sadder than usual. There are times when he and Mother don't even speak… and many nights when they don't sleep in the same room.

"I'm worried about you, Daddy. You don't seem well." He hasn't been sleeping properly, his eyes have that bruised saggy look they get when he doesn't.

He smiles, but he can't convince me with it. "I'm fine, punk. Really, I am. Don't worry." He won't meet my eyes, though… he's lying to me.

"Daddy…"

He reaches over and grasps my hands in his. "We'll talk later, okay, punk?" He vocalises this, because his hands are too busy preventing me from saying anything. He lets my hands go and ruffles my hair. I smile because I can't help it… I'll always smile for my Daddy.

"That's my girl." His smile changes, becomes more genuine. He taps me on the end of my nose and winks.

I return to my homework, but I can't concentrate. Something big is going to happen, and I'm scared it won't be good.

…

"We have to face facts, T'Pol. It's not working… it probably never stood a chance of working in the first place." I listen to Daddy as he moves around their room; my ear is pressed to the floorboards.

"That is hardly my fault." Mother's voice is calm and cold, like it always is.

"I didn't say that it was. But don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon enough." I hear the anger in Daddy's voice, underlaid by pain.

"And I suppose you would want to take…" Mother's voice is harder now.

"I know that's not possible." Daddy sounds like he wants to cry. "Don't even play that game with me."

"You are absolutely correct. By right of law…"

"Law? _Law?_ Is that all it is to you? Jesus Christ, T'Pol these are our _kids!_"

"Pardon? _Our_ children? I am the one who…"

"Fine. So I didn't carry them… I didn't give birth. But _damnit_, which one of us is the one who got up twenty times a night because one of them had colic, or needed changing? Which one of us sang them lullabies when they couldn't sleep? Which _one_ of us paid close enough attention to notice that our daughter can't vocalise?" I hear something click, and the bed bouncing. "So don't _tell_ me that they are somehow more _your_ children than mine."

"You might have warned me that there were genetic flaws in your family."

"_Excuse me?_" Now Daddy's voice gets cold and dangerous. "Yes, there is mutism in the family… but I hardly see how that qualifies as genetic _flaws_."

"She cannot speak…" Mother has never understood… to her, logically I am somehow less than perfect, for I know she sees my inability to vocalise as a detriment to communication. But Daddy… I could be ugly, blind and with extra fingers and toes and he'd still love me.

"She speaks just fine, T'Pol. It's not our fault you're incapable of listening." He stomps out, and the door slams. I'm about to get up when Lorien lands on me and begins pulling at my hair. He knows I can't scream, which is why he does it.

I reach around with my hand, fingers seeking out his eyes. I've got stronger fingers than he does, mostly because I use them more. He howls in pain and lets me go. "I'll get you for that, Charley. I promise."

I tell him something even he can understand, extending the second finger of my right hand.

"Hey. Bed. And don't talk like that." Daddy scoops me up and carries me to my room. He tucks me in and gives me a goodnight kiss on the forehead. "Sleep tight, punkin."

"See you in the morning, Daddy?" It's our ritual question… but tonight I don't ask out of ritual.

He doesn't answer me, just smiles and kisses me again. "Night, night, punkin." He's trying to keep tears out of his eyes, but he's not doing too well.

I hear Mother across the hall, putting Lorien to bed. He's complaining about how Daddy always takes my side. I don't hear what she says to him… she knows I hear as well as they do, so she speaks very softly.

I wait, listening until all the noises in the house stop. I wait some more, counting off the minutes, then get up. I gather together some things and stuff them all into my school bag. Then I change out of my pyjamas and pick up my shoes and tiptoe down the stairs.

"Going somewhere, punk?" Daddy's voice comes out of the shadows, his lazy drawl almost exaggerated.

I turn to face him; he's sitting in his chair in the dark, watching me.

"I'm leaving. I don't want to be here anymore." I keep the words sharp and hard, so he won't try to stop me.

"Where are you going? How do you plan to get there? Where will you live?" His words are easy-going, but concerned. His fingers dance lightly through the air, pausing only to change sentences.

I have no answers for him.

"Didn't think this through too much, huh?" A sad smile graces his lips.

I can lie to Mother without a problem, but I've never been able to lie to him. He always knows, somehow, reading the nuances of my words and expression. I shake my head, staring at the floor.

He claps his hands together lightly to get my attention. "You don't need to go anywhere punkin."

"I have to, Daddy. If I wasn't here, then maybe you and Mother…" I come closer to him, needing to be there.

He reaches out and grasps my hands, silencing me. "It's not about you, punkin. Trust me on that. Your mother and I…" He sighs, as though it's too hard for him to admit. "Your mother and I were never a good fit from the start."

I can see the suitcase at his side now, and know why he wouldn't answer me earlier. "I want to go with you."

He shakes his head. "You can't, punkin. I… I don't even know where I'm going, yet. I… I don't know if…"

"Daddy, please. I can't stay here. No one here can talk with me, can have conversations."

"Sweetie, I know it will be hard…"

I play my ace in the hole – one of Daddy's favourite expressions. "I met Kol, today. The boy Mother says I'm supposed to marry? He informed me that I was fortunate his family was willing to take me on. I don't _like_ him, Daddy… but Mother doesn't care. I _told_ her… but she said that if there's one thing she's learned it's that choosing your own mate isn't a wise choice."

He shrugs, helplessly. "Punkin…"

"Please, Daddy. Mother won't say a thing… it's Lorien she's concerned about. It will probably be a relief to her if I'm gone… she won't have to worry about the genetic flaws being passed down the line."

"Ivy." Daddy becomes stern. "You are _not_…"

"Daddy, please…"

He sighs again. "It's not that simple, punkin. Daddy… there's someone else that Daddy loves. I just don't know…"

"Well, let's go there, then." It makes perfect sense.

"It's not that easy, punk. There's complications…" He's uncomfortable with something, but I'm not going to let him get away with it.

"It can't be that bad, Daddy. Unless you're worried that I'll be a problem." That has to be it… this other person probably isn't going to be happy to have a mutant kid show up. "You go, Daddy. You go and be happy… and I'll figure something out." I step away and pick up my bag again, but Daddy stops me.

"Punkin, please…"

I pull away. "I won't stay here without you, Daddy. I would much rather be dead."

"Don't say that." Daddy freezes, I can see the terror in every inch of his body. "Don't ever say that, punkin." He knows I'm serious… that I _would_ rather be dead than living here without him. I can't survive if he's not here… Mother and Lorien will slowly try to twist and bend me into something I can't be. "Okay. We'll try it your way. I just hope…" He still can't say it – it's like he's afraid for me or ashamed of something.

"It can't be that bad, Daddy," I repeat. I pat his hand, reassuringly. After all, if this other person loves my Daddy too… then it ought to be okay.


	2. The Meeting

Disclaimer: I do not own many of these characters.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, even the criticisms. I leave them here, because I do believe in freedom of speech. However, that freedom also gives_me_the right to respond or ignore as I see fit. In response to some attacks on my having watched_Enterprise_: as a matter of fact, I have. And while I hate to throw a limb in the spoke of the 'Vulcans are Saints' bandwagon... two episodes (not the only two I have watched, but the two that several people seem to be choosing to ignore) '**Fusion**' and '**Stigma**' both address the issue of Vulcan prejudice... and yes it does exist – especially to displays of emotion. They are not perfect. As to T'Pol's Panar Syndrome... there are two points to be made here: One, she may be acting somewhat irrationally (or overcompensating with logic) due to the fact that her condition is worsening. Two, belonging to a minority group or suffering from a handicap does not automatically engender sympathy for others. I'm sorry, but I'm not here to make people happy, I'm here to tell a story. And if you think it's that bad... why are you still here?

**Chapter 2: The Meeting****  
  
**  
We've come to Earth... which makes sense because Daddy's from here. But we don't go to Florida where Daddy was brought up... instead we're in San Francisco. Now that we're here, Daddy's nervous again.  
  
"This is stupid," he mutters. "There's no way..."  
  
"Why is it stupid, Daddy?" I look again at the house we've come to... it's one of those tall narrow ones that you see around here. We're sitting on the step... mostly because Daddy won't ring the bell and stops me every time I try to do it.  
  
"It's... it's... it's complicated, sweetheart." He's vocalising, mainly because he's keeping a tight grip on my left hand, reducing me to spelling things out. Suddenly he gets up and we begin to leave.  
  
"Trip?" Daddy stops suddenly at the sound of a voice behind us. He turns slowly, and he begins to tremble. I squeeze his hand, knowing that he's scared. A tall man comes down the sidewalk towards us, there's streaks of grey in his dark hair. His gaze flicks down to me for a moment, then back to Daddy with a question.  
  
"Hey, Jon." Daddy smiles the smile he has for when he's uncomfortable. "You weren't home... we were just... long time, no see."  
  
Jon – I have no other name for him, just the one Daddy used – looks uncomfortable too. "Eight years... and now..."  
  
"Um... yeah. Um... Jon, I'd like you to meet Ivy. Ivy, this is Jon."  
  
I nod to him, unsure that he'll be able to understand me.  
  
"So is this a social call?" His eyes take in our bags, and he seems to realise that it's not.  
  
"I couldn't think of anywhere else, Jon. I'm sorry, I'm an idiot..." Daddy turns to go again.  
  
"Yes, you are. You've made it all the way here... you might as well come the rest of the way." He looks at me again, and one of his eyebrows quirks. "Ivy? That seems a little out of the Tucker..."  
  
"Four, Jon. Her first name's Charley."  
  
Jon is obviously familiar with the Tucker family tradition, because he chuckles. "Okay. That makes sense. What doesn't..." He closes the door behind us and waits while we take off our shoes.  
  
"It's over, Jon. T'Pol and I. It was stupid to begin with..." Daddy lets me go and pulls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest like he does when he's upset. "Can we discuss..."  
  
Jon nods. "Hey, Ivy. Do you want to go sit in the living room? You can watch some movies if you'd like." I know what he's really saying... that he and Daddy want to have a private conversation. I nod back, and follow him into the next room. He shows me how the movies work, then he and Daddy go off to another room. I put a movie on so he thinks I'm watching, then creep over to the door.  
  
"...and I know, I'm probably being insane here... but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. I'm no good at being alone, Jon... I know I have no right..."  
  
"It's been eight years, Trip." Jon's voice is flat... like he's trying not to say too much of anything.  
  
"I know... I know. But... I'm crazy. You've got..." Daddy's crying. I want to tell him it'll be okay, but I know I can't go in there, or they'll know I was listening. I shouldn't... but I'm still worried about Daddy.  
  
"Eight years is a long time, Trip. It's almost as long as..."  
  
"I know. But you gotta understand, Jon... Lorien... Ivy... you know I've..."  
  
"I know. It was always one of those things... it was an issue we never got around to dealing with." Jon sounds sad now, too. "Look. You can stay here tonight... we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"  
  
I don't hear an answer from Daddy, but I decide it's time to do something. I push open the door, pretending that I just got there.  
  
"Can I have a glass of water, Daddy? I'm thirsty."  
  
Jon looks at me in surprise – he looks more surprised when Daddy answers me back the same way.  
  
"Of course, punkin. How's the movie?"  
  
I shrug, because I have no idea.  
  
"Would you like something to eat, Ivy?" Jon speaks slowly and clearly, making sure he faces me directly. I can't help it -- I giggle.  
  
"She's not deaf, Jon." At the same time Daddy tells me that it's not nice for me to giggle at someone else's mistake.  
  
"Oh."  
  
I look around for something to write on, there's an old-fashioned white-board and pen on the fridge. As Daddy gets me a glass of water, I take it down and tug on Jon's sleeve.  
  
"Um..." Jon looks over at Daddy then down at me.  
  
I roll my eyes and tug on his sleeve again.  
  
"Okay, punkin. We'll come and watch with you." Daddy starts towards the living room.  
  
I shake my head. "You stay here. He and I need to talk."  
  
Daddy looks panicked, but he can see I'm not in a mood to argue. Instead he goes and sits down at the kitchen table and begins to play with the place mat.  
  
I pull on Jon's sleeve again, until he follows me into the living room. We sit on the couch, and I hold the whiteboard in my lap.  
  
_Who are you?_I write.  
  
"Jonathan Archer." He speaks softly, because he realises I want a private conversation too. "I was your Daddy's captain on board Enterprise. That's where your Daddy met your Mommy."  
  
_Where did Daddy meet you?_I erase the first question, and put this one in its place.  
  
"At Starfleet Academy. We were involved with the same research project."  
  
Time to take a wild guess._Do you love my Daddy?  
_  
His head jerks up as he reads that one. "What do you mean?"  
  
I underline the question, so he knows I'm asking it again.  
  
He takes a deep breath. "Why do you ask..."  
  
_Daddy said he loved someone other than Mother. Then we came here. Is it you?_  
  
Jon swallows nervously. "Did he say..."  
  
I shake my head._He wouldn't tell me. I think he was afraid that the person wouldn't like me. He didn't want me to be disappointed._I take my time with the last word, spelling it with my hand as I write it down.  
  
"I don't think that's the case, Ivy. It's a lot more complicated..."  
  
_Grown-ups always say that_. I make one of the faces that Daddy says will become permanent if I don't watch it.  
  
"That's because it is. Your Daddy and I were very close for a long time..."  
  
_Then me and Lorien came along._I can do math... I know that it's been eight years since they've seen each other, and Lorien and I are eight years old. And if there's one thing Daddy would give up anything for, it's us kids.  
  
"Yes... your Daddy has always wanted a family... and..." He swallows again, and looks away.  
  
_Do you still love him?_I know he must have once... or why would he be so upset now? It's another thing I can take the blame for: if I hadn't been born then Daddy would still be happy, and probably Jon too. Mother would probably have been better off as well.  
  
Jon must sense or see what I'm thinking, because he takes hold of my chin like my Daddy does and looks me straight in the eye. "It's not your fault that things happened, Ivy. You can't blame..."  
  
I underline the question, twice. It is my fault, which is why I have to fix it. I'm not letting him get away with avoiding the question... as Daddy says, some things need to be met head on.  
  
Jon sighs. "Yes, Ivy... I never stopped. But it's been a long time... people change..."  
  
Daddy loves you. I know that Jon must be who Daddy was talking about... but I don't know why Daddy wouldn't tell me. Jon seems nice... and he isn't scared of me at all.  
  
"It's not that simple."  
  
I roll my eyes, because grown-ups always say that, too._But we can try, right? If it doesn't work, I can always go..._I pause for a moment, and decide I might be able to lie to Jon._I can always go back and live with Mother.  
_  
Jon sighs and stares at the ceiling. "I don't think you understand, Ivy..."  
  
_If you love Daddy, and Daddy loves you... what's wrong with it?_Admittedly it's not a Vulcan arrangement, for it isn't logical. Clearly Daddy and Jon can't create children... but they don't need to, either.  
  
"I can see you've got the family Stubborn." He shakes his head, but he's smiling. "We'll have to see."  
  
I smile back, knowing he's hooked. There's one more thing I want to make sure of, though. I put down the whiteboard and free up my hands. I point to myself, and sign my name. I.V. Jon watches me carefully.  
  
I repeat the gesture, then nod at him. Slowly he raises his right hand, and signs it himself.  
  
I give him a hug – Daddy's not the only impulsive one in the family – then sit back again. Pointing at him, I sign his name. It takes a couple of tries, but he gets it. Then he asks me for one more thing.  
  
I pull him back into the kitchen, where Daddy is shredding some paper. I show him Jon's name, then tell him that we're staying.  
  
"Thanks, Jon. I appreciate it."  
  
"You're welcome." Jon doesn't vocalise it, merely uses the gesture I taught him.  
  
Daddy stands up, and he's crying again. He gives Jon a hug, holding him tighter than I've ever seen him hug anybody, including Mother. I know it's not just because he loves Jon, but that Jon has made more effort in five minutes to accept me, than Mother has in my lifetime. Watching them, I can't help but hope. 


	3. The Arrangement

**Disclaimer**: I do not own these characters. I make no money off of this.

**Author's note**: I know some of you out there are still going to hate me… but that's your opinion, not mine. As I noted in another story: 'Crazy isn't hearing voices _inside_ your head, crazy is listening to the ones _outside_ who say that you're what's wrong with the universe.' Frankly, folks, I'm not willing to believe I'm crazy. I respect your opinions… and I respect your right to have them. That doesn't mean I have to make them mine. Try to keep in mind… it's just a story… it's not a blueprint for the operation of the universe. It's really shouldn't be that vital to your lives.

**Chapter 3: The Arrangement**

Jon has a couch that changes into a bed, so Daddy and I get into a fight over who is going to sleep on the cushions on the floor. I win, because I'm smaller and have less back problems.

"You really should have let your Dad have the floor, Ivy." Jon watches our fight, slightly amused. "I don't think it would have been a hardship. After all, we are talking about the guy who spent two years sleeping in a sleeping bag on his own couch just so he wouldn't have to make his bed in the morning."

Daddy goes red in the ears, like he does when he's embarrassed. "Jon…"

"Well, you did." Jon laughs.

"It was efficient." Daddy seems to be concentrating very hard on arranging a pillow.

Jon laughs some more. "Face it, Trip: you were a slob."

Daddy picks up the pillow and throws it at Jon. "Stop maligning me in front of my daughter."

Jon catches the pillow and grins. "I'm sorry. Ivy, your father was a complete, total and utter slob.

Daddy looks like he's about to say something, then stops. "Time for bed, punk. You've got to be exhausted."

I am tired, so I don't argue. I ask our ritual question, and this time he answers.

"Absolutely, punkin." He gives me my goodnight kiss and I close my eyes.

They leave the room and close the door, and I know they're having another Conversation. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but I get worried when people think there's something they need to hide from me. And I've been _really_ worried about my daddy, lately.

"You're really crazy about her, aren't you?" They've moved into the living room, so all I need to do is open the door, and I can hear them.

"Insane," Daddy admits. "She's a great kid, Jon."

"And Lorien?" There's a little something extra in the question… like there's something special about Lorien.

"Let's just say I can see a future where he'd be the type of person to shoot me." Daddy sighs. "What's so _frustrating_ is that Vulcans keep going on about how tolerant they are… that whole 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations' crap… but they're just as prejudiced as anybody else. T'Pol never bothered to learn sign language, you know that? And she's _really_ got a problem with Ivy's emotionalism…"

"Well, it _is_ somewhat understandable, Trip. T'Pol had some rough spots with that herself…"

"I know about the Trellium, Jon." Daddy sounds like it's something he's heard about a million times before.

Jon doesn't say anything… at least not anything I can hear.

"What is it, Jon? There's something you're not telling me…"

Jon sighs. "You've spent enough time there, Trip. Have you ever heard of Panar Syndrome?"

I gasp. Panar Syndrome is supposed to be one of the worst things that can happen to a Vulcan – most Vulcans who have it are shunned. At the same time I'm angry – Mother was mad at Daddy because he didn't say there was mutism in his family, but _she_ clearly didn't tell him about Panar Syndrome in hers.

"I thought that only struck past the age of…" Daddy stops, suddenly. "That would explain a lot, though, Jon. She's been paranoid about the kids being out of place… not acting Vulcan."

"And how does…" Jon sounds lost.

"You were an only child from a small family, Jon. Trust me… when there's a trouble kid… a black sheep… first thing people look at is the parents. If T'Pol's got Panar… the last thing she's going to want is anybody to know about it. Hell, Jon, she wouldn't even tell me… and I _married_ her, for Chrissakes." Daddy groans. "But still… it's no excuse for how she's been to Ivy. I mean Ivy gets emotional, sure… but all you can say about that is that she's well named. Maybe that's it… I don't know."

"You think T'Pol has problems with Ivy because Ivy's so much like you?" Jon's voice changes and becomes more gentle.

"Maybe… I think T'Pol always knew that she'd never have all of me… maybe the way Ivy and I bonded made it worse. But she's a great kid, Jon." Daddy sighs. "Maybe that's the trouble with Lorien, too. He's half mine as well… I can't grant Ivy the right to emotions and not to him. It's _probably_ basic sibling rivalry. I've spent a lot of time with Ivy… what with the sign language and all… he probably felt jealous about that. Which is probably why he went to his mother for support… _God_, we're a screwed up family, Jon." Daddy sounds like he's crying again. "I always said that when I was a Dad I wouldn't play favourites… I _know_ what that feels like… and here I am…"

"Shh." Their voices get quieter, so I have to creep closer. They're sitting at an angle where I can see them, but they can't see me. Jon has his arm around Daddy, and Daddy's head is on Jon's shoulder. "What were you supposed to do, Trip? Ignore Ivy's special needs?"

Daddy straightens up. He always gets mad when people imply I'm somehow less than capable. "She's not handicapped, Jon."

"I didn't say that. God, you're a mother hen. But most parents don't have to go learning a new language just so they can communicate with their child. And I'm assuming that you _tried_ to teach Lorien…" Jon keeps his voice low and level.

"I didn't _have _to learn it, Jon. And Lorien learned with Ivy –up until he was five… then he stopped wanting to learn. He's still quite fluent… he just won't use it, because he says there's no need. He claims that since Ivy is capable of hearing him, then logically verbalisation is far more effective, because it includes more people and isn't likely to lead to long term health problems." I never knew that Lorien could speak… I guess it's because between five and eight you forget things, especially when they never happen.

"Health problems?" Jon sounds surprised. "What kind of…"

"Long term use of sign language _can_ lead to wrist problems." Daddy laughs sadly. "You want to know what's _really_ strange? T'Pol wanted to go with a technical solution… there are implants that can pick up on nervous system and muscle data and synthesise vocalisation… but it seemed like such an invasive solution for a little kid. _I'm_ the engineer… and _I'm_ the one who insisted on low-tech."

"You never told me you knew sign-language."

"I didn't? My cousin is mute… most of the family knows at least a bit of sign. How do you think I got past the language requirement at the Academy? I convinced them to let me turn my oral exam into a visual… they actually had to go hunt down a translator. When Hoshi found out… she hounded me for months to teach her. I thought you knew."

Jon shakes his head. "No, actually, I didn't. And here I thought you had no secrets from me."

"I didn't even realise I was keeping it a secret. I guess maybe because I grew up with it I never thought of it as that big of a deal. It was just something I knew how to do." He gets sad again. "But when _she_ found out… T'Pol acted like it _was_ a big deal… like I'd been keeping some big shameful secret from her. Kellie's _still_ one of my favourite cousins – even if I do hate the bastard she married – I've never thought it strange that she couldn't vocalise… it was just Kellie. Then again, our family's never been one to pick things apart logically… I was more concerned with her tendency to kick my ass in the annual Tucker Flag Football game than with the fact she was silent. _Hell_, it gave her an _advantage_ at football, because we couldn't eavesdrop on the huddle."

"Yeah, that sounds like you," Jon mutters. "But you can't take all the blame, Trip."

"Yeah I can. It was _my_ choice to get involved in the first place. It split us up… took T'Pol in a direction she probably shouldn't have gone…"

"Would you really give up Ivy?"

I press my fingers to my lips, even though I can't make any noise. Daddy doesn't answer.

"I didn't think so, Trip. Watching the two of you… I honestly don't think I've seen a better fit. You're a good father, Trip… and I can tell she loves you. She's so worried about you being happy… she was willing to leave you here and go back home if I had any problems with her."

"No, she's not, Jon. The reason she's _with_ me is that she was running away from home." Daddy's more upset now – and it must be my fault. I wish Jon hadn't told him that, but I never told Jon it was a secret, either. "She's stubborn, Jon…"

"I noticed."

"… and it was either bring her with me, or have her end up God knows where. And I've got enough deaths on my conscience… I don't need to hear I've got my kid's as well."

Jon runs his hand along Daddy's shoulder. "I know. You've always been so good at taking the blame for everything, haven't you? It took me a long time to see it… when I did, I thought it was too late. But let me tell you a few things you did not do: You did _not_ give T'Pol Panar Syndrome… you did _not_ create the Vulcan prejudice against it… or displays of emotion. You _did_ give Ivy love and support… and from the looks of things, a hell of a lot of self-confidence as well. And if Lorien's like I remember… and like you say… I'm not surprised you bonded more closely with Ivy. You're human, Trip – you're _very_ human. You let your emotions hijack you sometimes… and don't give me a lecture about how the amygdyla can shut down the rest of the brain, I've heard that one before. But as humans… we respond better to those who show us emotion in return. I remember overhearing an argument between T'Pol and Hoshi once… Hoshi claimed that emotions were a human method of communication."

"It's just… It's so _hard_. I was _so_ close to breaking, Jon… I kept holding things in so as not to upset the kids, but she saw it anyway. I mean you think _I'm_ good at taking blame? She figured that if she left…" Daddy's voice trails off, and he's shaking. "I mean I love 'em both, Jon, but she's always been the one to worry about me. And maybe you're right, maybe I did respond to that more. I shouldn't have – I know – but… maybe she'd have been better off if I didn't indulge her so much… she might have fit in better…"

"Or maybe she'd have _more_ emotional problems, Trip. Don't forget… she _is_ half human – and that's _your_ half. You feel things very intensely, and some of that is supposed to be more Nature than Nurture."

"Where the hell did you learn all that?" Daddy's now the one who sounds lost.

The back of Jonathan's neck turns red. "Someone I met… a neurologist. It lasted about two weeks."

"Oh, God, Jon, I'm sorry." Daddy starts to cry harder. "I was so… so desperate to be a Dad…"

"I know… I know. Sometimes I think it's what you were put in this world to do. I've _seen_ you with kids, Trip – you've got real talent there. Hell, you're probably a better parent than you are an Engineer."

"Hardly. I mean, I've seriously fucked things up, Jon. And now, I'm here… I'm imposing on you… How can I help guide someone else's life when I can't even handle my own?"

"You're not an imposition, Trip. It's not like I don't have enough space here… and you need somewhere to be. You guys can stay here as long as you need to." Jon gets very quiet for a moment. "T'Pol _does_ know that you have her, doesn't she? You won't get charged…"

"God, I hope not. I told her where we were going… you'd think she'd have sent somebody to meet us… take Ivy back if she was that upset… I think though… I think _all_ of us just got tired of fighting. Ivy's like me… maybe T'Pol's just found it less complicated. It's probably easier on both of 'em without me there. As for Ivy… like I said, Jon, she's like me. I swear, she curses more than I do, and that's one hell of a trick."

I can't help but feel a little bit proud of this… because I know Daddy has a bit of pride in it too.

"At eight? That's kind of scary, Trip."

"She's smarter than her old man too… I wish I had half her brains, Jon. She gets _that_ from her mother… I can't think of where else."

"You're no slouch in the brains department yourself, Trip." Jon's right, but Daddy always felt inadequate back on Vulcan – he'd never say it to us, but I could see it in his face, especially when he'd help us with our homework, and I'd hear him say things to Mother sometimes.

"You wouldn't _believe_ the academic load, Jon. They're doing stuff at eight that here we don't tackle 'til about sixteen. But Ivy's had trouble at school…"

"Because of…"

"No, Jon, not the language barrier." Daddy interrupts, even though he always tells me it's not polite. "She likes to do things her own way… and she's got a temper, which does _not_ sit well with her classmates or her teachers."

"Well, I remember you used to ruffle a few feathers back at the Academy. Opening your mouth before your brain caught up or shooting off on a tangent during one of your marathon work sessions… what's your record? Six straight shifts?"

"Forrest told you, huh? Yeah, Jeffries complained about that one… but they were less concerned with technique than results. Vulcans… they're like those teachers who always told you to show all your work."

"I never had any problem with them," Jon says.

"Asshole. I guess it's just… we had a lot of parent-teacher conferences and most of them were about Ivy – not doing things like she was supposed to, talking back, getting into fights – T'Pol found it… difficult dealing with a rebel… the more you push Ivy, the more she fights back."

"Daddy's girl," Jon comments.

"You betcha. It's funny… she looks like T'Pol and acts like me, but with Lorien it's the other way around. _He_ looks like my Dad – which I noted the last time – but he's got his mother's temperament. But that's how I knew Ivy was serious, Jon." He shifts slightly and Jon looks down. I know they're looking at the scar on Daddy's wrist – the one he says he got from surgery for too many mis-thrown passes. In his darker moods he calls it his 'stigmata wound – the curse of the deeply religious.' I've never understood that, because Daddy's not religious at all.

"Your accident." Jon says 'accident' like he believes it as much as I do the surgery story. Lorien says it's possible, but Lorien doesn't know anything about football. Most quarterbacks need shoulder surgery before they need wrist surgery… and if they _do_ need wrist surgery, it doesn't leave that big of scars.

"Remember when it happened? The day my dad came out for a surprise visit and caught the two of us coming out of the shower?"

Jon nods. "I remember he wasn't very happy."

"No." The way Daddy says it, I know 'wasn't very happy' is a serious understatement. "Well, you'll also recall that you weren't invited to dinner. His view was that it was all your fault."

"You have got to be…"

"I'm from _North_ Florida, Jon, not the Keys. It's Deep South… 'Deliverance' territory. People are still marryin' their cousins and chasin' their sisters." Daddy's drawl gets thicker, like it always does when he's bitter. "We still haven't caught up to the rest of the world on things, yet. They tried to have one of those 'Gay and Lesbian Support' groups at my school… a couple of kids showed up to the first and only meeting. Two days later one of them hung himself and another ended up in the ICU nearly beaten to death. You learn to keep your head down and your mouth shut, real fast. I lived so deep in the closet I had names for all the hangers. 'Specially when my dad hit his 'Fundamentalist' kick."

He sighs. "He was gonna kidnap me and drag me back home… save my soul. I told him you had nothing to do with it, and he said…" Daddy's voice catches, "… he said he didn't raise a faggot for a son. I told him it had nothing to do with that, either… eventually it got to the point where I picked up my steak knife and said that since I was going to Hell anyway, I might as well just kill myself right then and save him the embarrassment of anyone else finding out. He said I didn't have the guts." He pauses, "Did you know that most slashing suicides have several wounds? Hesitation cuts while workin' up the courage to do it right? Bet your neurologist buddy never told you that. I didn't hesitate, Jon… I drove that knife through my wrist so hard that it stuck into the table. I mighta died right there in that restaurant, 'cept two tables over was a couple of paramedics."

Suddenly I hate my grandfather, even though I've never met him.

"Well, that explains your weekly disappearing act," Jon says, his voice going very flat again. "Psychologist?"

"Psychiatrist. I got drugs. Fortunately the privacy laws prevented Starfleet from finding out _why_ I was seeing Dr. Lewis… or they'd never have let me ship out. The point is, Jon… If I know _I_ don't bluff on that point, how can I assume Ivy would? 'Specially not when it's what I had planned for myself."

"In other words, you weren't just leaving." Jon's voice becomes flat.

I'm really scared now. What if I hadn't decided to leave? What if I'd let Daddy talk me out of it? Would he have actually killed himself?

"I… I love 'em, Jon. They're my kids, they're more important to me than life itself. I… I didn't figure I'd make it without them… but I'd do more damage if I stuck around. I am the biggest screw-up in the universe, Jon."

"What was the name of that psychiatrist again? You're _human_, Trip. Families break up every day… it's not pretty, but it's survivable. You could have gone for joint custody…"

"On _Vulcan_? The courts would've granted automatic custody to T'Pol. Not because she's the mother… they don't really consider that… but because she's the Vulcan parent, and you _know_ they consider themselves to be more advanced than us."

"So…"

"My little girl saved my life, Jon. Hell, maybe T'Pol's right… maybe there _are_ screwed up genetics in my family, she just identified the wrong ones."

"Well… you're starting to sound like you're badly in need of some sleep – yes, I do remember what that sounds like. You and Ivy can stay here… like I said, I've got the space and you certainly need somewhere… I'll see if I can contact T'Pol in the morning… she _is_ Ivy's mother and she _does_ have a say… and we'll take it from there." Jon takes his arm away from Daddy's shoulder and goes to stand up.

"Thanks, Jon. I know it's more than I have any right to ask for." I creep back down the hall, using Daddy's voice to cover the sound of my movements. I don't want to be caught out here when I'm supposed to be asleep.

"Yes, it is. But I'm not turning a kid out on the streets, either." I hear the couch springs creaking as Jon stands.

I'm in bed with my eyes closed when Daddy comes in. I want to go to him and hug him and tell him it will be okay… but it's probably better if I let him keep his secrets.


	4. The Rules

Disclaimer: I don't own _Enterprise_ or it's characters. I don't make money from this, either.

"If my [work] makes one more person miserable, I will feel I have done my job." _Woody Allen_

**Chapter 4: The Rules**

I'm surprised to find Daddy gone when I wake up… Daddy insists that he _is_ a morning person – provided that he's approaching it from the other end. I'm almost at the kitchen when I hear them talking.

"Ivy doesn't lie to me, Jon. If she says…"

"I'm not saying that, Trip." Jon sounds like he's been through this a million times and that he's tired of it. "All I'm saying is that there are some discrepancies between T'Pol's version of events, and the one you related to me."

"In other words, she's been playing fast and loose with the truth again." Daddy still sounds upset, but it's not with Jon anymore. There's a brief silence, then Daddy clarifies. "Ivy I mean… not T'Pol."

"Apparently the boy was commenting on her temper – not her mutism. _And_ she apparently broke his nose." Jon's tone becomes dry.

Daddy takes a deep breath; he's trying to control _his_ temper. "We're going to have to have another word about that. But…"

"It's not easy for any mother to give up her child, Trip. T'Pol is no exception."

"I know…"

I don't stay to hear any more… I make an instant, logical decision. I cannot go back. However, I appear to have no choice in the matter. But, if I'm not here, it becomes impossible to send me back. This time I don't waste time preparing or packing… I simply head out the door and down the street. The sidewalk is hard and rough against my bare feet, but I'm running as fast as I can, so they don't spend much time on the ground, anyway.

"Ivy!" I hear Daddy's voice behind me, all panicky and sharp. I cut to the right and into the street, not caring about traffic.

"_Ivy!_" Daddy screams it this time, and the footsteps behind me get even faster.

I'm picked up from behind and carried to the sidewalk. As soon as Jon puts me down – it has to be Jon, because I can see Daddy catching up – I try to get away again, but he holds on too tight. "It's okay, Ivy."

I shake my head, still trying to get away. It's not okay… Jon can't understand. I try to stomp on his instep, but he's wearing shoes and I'm not, so he feels nothing.

"Ivy!" Daddy reaches us, and despite the running, he's pale. "Ivy, honey, what happened?" He looks at me and then at Jon. "Let go of her arms, Jon."

Jon lets me go, and I move away from him, in case I need to run again. "I won't go back, Daddy… I won't. You can't make me go back there, Daddy…" I'm crying now, and so is he.

"No, honey, why do you think that? You're staying here…"

"But Jon said…"

Daddy goes stern, even though he's still scared. "Ivy… were you eavesdropping again?"

I shake my head. I hadn't been eavesdropping… this time it had been an accident. But I know what Jon said.

"Honey, Jon talked to your mother this morning, and she agreed that you could stay here with me. We're not going to send you back, punk…"

I throw my arms around him and start crying even harder. I can't believe it… but Daddy wouldn't lie to me about something like that. And I'm scared and upset because he's scared and upset.

He picks me up and carries me inside without saying anything else. He puts me down in a chair at the table and Jon drops a box of tissues in my lap.

"Calm down and then we'll talk." He doesn't say it soothingly like Daddy would, or even calmly like Mother would. He says it like a command, expecting obedience.

Jon waits until I stop crying. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was? You could have easily been killed and you had no clue what you were running from, anyway."

I look over to Daddy for support, but he says nothing. He seems to be letting Jon handle this, when usually he has something to say as well.

"Now, frankly, I don't care _why_ you did it. I don't accept excuses for that kind of irresponsible behaviour. Not only could you have gotten yourself killed, you could have gotten your father killed, and me as well. Now, if you want to stay here… you're going to have to abide by some ground rules, do you understand?"

I nod, knowing that it's probably not a good idea to argue with him, or even to try to explain.

"Number one… I don't ever want to see anything like that again. I don't care if you were eavesdropping intentionally, or just happened to overhear the conversation, but when it comes to things like that, you _ask_, you don't just start running. You would have saved us all a hell of a lot of effort and risk, if you had taken the time to think.

"Number two… you will be going to school. I've made arrangements with the school: you'll be going in for an assessment test tomorrow. Now I expect that you will have difficulty adjusting… and that's fine… but I do _not_ want to be getting any calls, or your father to be getting any calls saying that you've been in a fight. You've got a problem with somebody, you do _not_ solve it with your fists."

I nod again, feeling frustration tears burning at my eyes. I _don't_ like getting in fights, but sometimes they just happen. It's like this pressure builds inside me, and then it just blows. And the more I try to control it… the more I try to suppress my emotion… the more intense it is when it finally breaks free. Daddy says he understands… that's why he swears so much. He says it's like a lot of little earthquakes to prevent a big one… but Mother always said that was just an excuse… that I just didn't wish to work at my exercises. And I don't… because I don't like what happens.

"Number three… you are eight years old. I know your father uses certain language, but it is not language appropriate for a person your age. You will not use it in this household, am I clear?"

"Yes."

Jon looks to Daddy for clarification. "She understands, Jon."

"Number four… it is quite obvious that you have some serious temper issues. Now I'm not going to buy the excuse that you're half-human… no matter _what_ they believed on Vulcan. I'm human… I know human behaviour, and more importantly, I know your father. He's not perfect… but if he can learn to control himself, so can you."

I'm beginning to wonder what Daddy sees in Jon… how Jon is any different than Mother in some ways. Except… Jon isn't being logical… he's simply stating his expectations, and I am to obey. However, if it means we can stay here… if it means I don't have to go back to Vulcan… "I'll try."

Daddy translates, and Jon shakes his head. "'Try' isn't good enough, Ivy. You _will_ start taking responsibility for your actions. I'm not saying you can't have feelings… but you can't keep letting them be your pretext for getting away with bad behaviour. Yes, you get upset. Your Dad gets upset. I'm upset right now. There is part of me that would like to turn you over my knee and give you a good spanking… but I know that won't solve anything."

My stomach twists when he says that… I've never been hit like that in my life. Daddy says he was brought up with corporal punishment, and it didn't do him a damn bit of good… so he's never used it, no matter how mad Lorien or I have made him. I have a feeling if I make Jon mad enough, though, he will. I nod again, slowly.

"All right. Now go get dressed, and come back here for breakfast."

I slide down off my chair, realising that Daddy isn't going to defend me this time. I'm not sure if he's afraid of Jon, or agrees with him… all I know is that it's been a long time since I've truly faced a two against one. Even when I've been in fights, Daddy's always had something comforting to say, even if it's just that he understands. Maybe it's because we're guests here, and Daddy doesn't want to upset Jon… but it seems like more than that.

Breakfast is quiet… Jon and Daddy don't say much to each other, and Daddy only talks to me to remind me to drink my orange juice. It's the first time I've ever had orange juice… it tastes strange, but good, sweet and sharp at the same time. Vulcan tradition doesn't allow for talking during meals… but I know that humans do it all the time, so I know I'm still in trouble.

After breakfast, Jon drives Daddy and I out to a tall building in the middle of town. Daddy gets out of the car, and leaves me with Jon.

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Jon says, and Daddy nods. I'm a bit scared now… aside from school, this is the first time Daddy's ever left me alone with a stranger. Daddy seems to trust him, but I don't know how mad Jon still is at me.

Daddy goes inside the building and Jon twists around in his seat to look at me. "Your Dad's just going to see a doctor, Ivy. Since you don't eat meat, I thought we'd do a little bit of grocery shopping while we wait."

"Is Daddy sick?" I forget that Jon can't understand me… Daddy _has_ to be sick… Daddy doesn't like to go to the doctor.

Jon blinks, then leans over and opens a small compartment in front of the seat that Daddy was sitting in. He takes out a pad and stylus and hands them to me. "This will have to do until I get a little more fluent."

I write out the question and hand it back to him.

"Your Dad has been under a lot of stress, Ivy. This is a doctor that can help him with that."

Now I'm really confused. Daddy _really_ doesn't go to a doctor for things like that… Mother used to ask him to, but she gave up when he wouldn't go. Jon seems to know this, though, because he explains. "One of the rules for your Dad is that he goes and sees Dr. Lewis." Jon smiles very slightly. "I told him that there were two ways. He could go on his own… or I'd knock him out and drag him down here. Your Dad's not as stupid as he likes to think he is."

I have to admit that Mother never tried that one. She used to argue and explain… she never said she'd make him go against his will.

I'm fascinated by the grocery store… there's so many different colours and shapes: everything is bright and designed to attract the eye. There's strange smells too… some of them good, some of them annoying. And everybody's all talking at once… on Vulcan you almost never find this. Vulcans aren't much for casual conversations… there's usually a point to any conversation they have. People here seem to talk about anything… I realise now why Daddy would talk so much with me, or even have conversations with himself. He must have missed just _talking_, not necessarily with a purpose, but just to talk.

There's people offering food, too… but Jon says I shouldn't take any until we have a better idea what my sensitivities are – that some things might make me sick. A lot of it has meat in it anyway, so it's easy for me to say no.

I've also never seen a lot of the other things… Jon spends a lot of time with the fruits and vegetables, asking me if I've had any of them, and letting me smell some of them to see if I like it. He says that since most of taste is smell, anyway, it'll give me some idea. There's so many people in here, and suddenly I'm glad that Daddy braided my hair in a way that covers my ears. It would look suspicious, I realise, for a little Vulcan girl to be shopping with a human man.

He picks up some other things, too: then in one of the aisles, he stops and grins. "I never thought I'd be buying these again." He picks up a bag full of white squishy things… they look like little pillows.

_What are they_? I write it on the pad and hand it to him.

"Marshmallows. Pure sugar… your Dad loves them. Which reminds me… I should pick up some Rocky Road, too."

It sounds horrible… but I have to ask _Rocky Road_?

"It's your Dad's favourite ice cream. Chocolate and nuts and marshmallows… personally I've always preferred a good gelato – it's a little less sweet – but I've never accused your Dad of having taste." He looks down at me. "And from the sounds of things, it's probably been a while since he's had any."

It must be, because I never even knew such things existed. On the way back to get Daddy, Jon lets me try a marshmallow. It's very sweet, but I like it.

"Yeah, I can see you becoming a cotton candy nut, too." Jon laughs. He doesn't sound like he's mad at me anymore… but about the only really emotional person I've known – besides myself – has been Daddy… so I don't know how to read him very well.

I look at him, questioningly.

"Cotton candy. It's sugar… spun sugar. _Very_ sweet. And sticky, too."

I decide I'm going to have to try cotton candy sometime.

When Daddy gets in the car, I scramble into the back-seat behind Jon, then I hand Daddy a marshmallow.

"Thanks, punk." He looks at me and then at Jon.

"There's Rocky Road, too," I tell him.

Daddy smiles, the first real smile I've seen from him in a long time, his entire face lighting up. "Rocky Road. Thanks Jon… thanks for remembering that." He puts the entire marshmallow in his mouth. "Mmmm. I think I've needed this."

Jon laughs as we pull away from the curb, and Daddy just smiles more. He looks happy, really happy, and I'm happy too. I decide then and there that marshmallows must be magic.


	5. The Nightmare

Disclaimer: I don't own Enterprise or it's characters.

**Chapter 5: The Nightmare**

It's cold and dark; I'm in a desert at nighttime. I'm alone… completely alone, but I'm not alone at all. There's something out there, and it wants me, and it knows this desert better than I do… this desert is its home. I run, needing to get away from the desert, needing to get to water. Water is safe… it is a desert creature; water is its enemy. But there is no water… water is rare here, which is why I am afraid. I have only one thing to cling to… one thing to give me strength. It is a small feather, in a shade of impossibly bright pink. I know of no creature with feathers like this… it is a magical feather; it is the only thing I have to keep me safe. As long as I have the feather… I can believe in colour and light and beauty and love and happiness. I can hope. But _it_ wants to take all of those things from me… _it_ wants to make me cold and dead – no appreciator of beauty, no giver of love.

So I run through this silver-lit landscape, knowing it can track me wherever I go.

_Give up, child. Come home. You belong here…_

"No." I keep running, faster now.

_You grow tired, child. You should rest. You have much to learn._

My legs grow tired, but I dare not slow my pace. Commonsense and logic say I should rest… but if I rest it will catch me. Stubbornness keeps me going, drives my legs onward even as they cry out. I will not quit… I will die before I let it catch me.

_Dying would be such a waste… you have so much you can accomplish. Come home, child. We can teach you._

"No!" The thought of learning from it scares me.

_We can take away your fear. You need never be afraid again, child._

"_No!_" I would rather be forever afraid, forever filled with sorrow than to lose them. They are my colours, my shades, and I will not have them fade to black and white. I have seen myself in black and white… it is a picture that cannot be developed.

Suddenly the ground begins to sway, and I stumble, falling…

My pillow is wet beneath my cheek, wet with the cold sweat of nightmare. The world is still swaying though… my dream has been made real.

"It's okay, punk. It's just a light one." Daddy's voice reaches out from the darkness, reassuring me with its presence. Daddy is a creature of the ocean… he is no kin to the desert.

The swaying stops, and he switches on a light so we can talk. "Kind of scary, huh? My first one… I thought it was the big one, and that we were all going to die. I was _born_ in a hurricane… but a tiny tremor freaked me right out."

"What _was_ it?" I've never felt anything like that before… it was like the world decided to suddenly change position.

"Earthquake." Daddy smiles. "California gets them sometimes… you get used to it after a while. Jon probably didn't even wake up. You okay, punk?"

I shake my head. "Nightmare." I can never tell him what they are about… I don't think he'll understand.

He nods, and sits up, patting the bed beside him. "Come here, then."

We sit for a while; just the two of us thinking our own thoughts, but knowing the other is there to keep us safe.

"Daddy, are we near the ocean?" I haven't seen much of San Francisco… we came straight here from the shuttleport… and I've only been downtown and to the grocery store since.

"Right next to it, punk. Why?"

"Can I go see the ocean, Daddy?" Something in me needs to see it, to touch it and know that it is real.

Daddy smiles. "Sure, punk. I don't know why we haven't already. I've missed it… that's one of the big things I've really missed." He sighs. "I almost forgot how much I love it… just the sound of it, the smell of it." He pulls me in for a quick hug. "I bet you wouldn't like the smell so much… you can probably smell a lot more of the real stuff in there, than I can."

"Real stuff?"

He grins, like he does when he's playing a joke on someone. "Dead fish… whale poop…"

"Daddy." I punch him in the side and he begins to tickle me.

"What? You think the whales get out of the ocean to go to the bathroom? There'd be no room left to walk on the beach."

I squirm to get away from him, laughing. Daddy always knows the best cures for my nightmares… Mother used to tell me to meditate more before sleeping, and I wouldn't have them… but sometimes the meditation makes it worse.

"We'll go see the ocean tomorrow, punk. Right after your test… we'll head on down to the beach."

"And watch out for poopy whales?" If Daddy can be ridiculous, then so can I. I don't have any idea what a whale looks like, but it sounds interesting.

"Absolutely, punk." He laughs, and I realise how much _I've_ missed _that_. Daddy hasn't laughed in a long time… he's starting to be happy again. It's the ocean – I know it must be. It's just like they taught us in school: it's in the ocean that life begins.


	6. The First Day

Disclaimer: I do not own _Enterprise_ or it's characters. I make no financial gains from this.

Author's note:

Below, there are two quotes by Marshall McLuhan. For those unfamiliar with this person, he is the man who coined the term "global village," though he is most remembered for his quote: "the medium is the message," (the technical ramifications of which I will not discuss here… if you wish to discuss them, feel free to contact me via email). The Internet allows this global village to exist… its anonymity cannot serve as a shield and prevent us from being responsible for our actions. Just as we are responsible to our neighbours (and don't kid yourself… in most places, under the law you _can_ be held responsible…) in the "real world," so too, are we responsible to those we meet online. It takes courage for _any_ person to post their work… that courage should not be belittled simply because you do not like it, or agree with their premise or interpretation.

C.

Chapter 6: The First Day

Everybody experiences far more than he understands. Yet it is experience, rather than understanding, that influences behavior.  
_Marshall McLuhan_

It is the weak and confused who worship the pseudosimplicities of brutal directness. _Marshall McLuhan_

I'm nervous: I've never been in a human classroom before. According to the assessment test, I am well ahead of my 'age peers' in reasoning skills, mathematics and science… but I have knowledge gaps in literature and history and culture. This, along with my 'special support needs' means I've been assigned to a 'Special Needs' class… whatever that is. Daddy was a little upset with this assessment… he said he'd rather home-school me than have me marginalized as 'Special Needs,' but Jon said for him to stop hovering… that I needed some socialization, and it would only be until I caught up with everybody else… which wouldn't take long. He told Daddy that no matter what, I was going to face prejudice, so I might as well learn how to handle it.

I see why Daddy was worried about the 'Special Needs' class, not because of the people _in_ the class, but the people outside it. It's at recess that I get my first real lesson in human prejudice.

"A new dummy." A fat boy leans in close, breathing into my face. His breath is nasty, and makes me want to gag. "What's your problem, dummy?"

I answer him with one of the words I learned from Daddy, one of the ones that Jon said I'm not supposed to use. But since I'm not in the house… I use it anyway.

"What's the matter, dummy? Can't talk?" He places his hands on my shoulders and pushes me backwards. I try to remember what Jon said about not solving a problem with my fists, but it's hard.

"I probably have a better command of language than you, actually." Unfortunately, it's a different language, and only confirms his assessment of me.

"Poor wittle baby… can't talk. Dumb, dumb, dumb."

I manage not to explode, by reflecting that he is technically correct… but is too stupid himself to realise it.

Some of the other kids are gathered around now, and are laughing. _They are afraid_. I make myself think this, so I can sympathise, rather than hate. _They are afraid, because I am different._ It's not working, however… I can feel the rage rising…

He shoves me again, and my shoulders scrape against the rough surface of the school walls. There's no way out, except through him, now. I feel the sharp stones that coat the wall digging into my back, and they hurt. He's more massive than me, which means that there's more force behind his pushes than I could ever manage. He thinks this makes him more powerful, that it makes me an easy target, but _I_ know that the less distribution there is to an impact, the greater the force of that impact on that point. I bring my hands down hard on his collarbones… if I hit him more toward the centre I'd have to work my way through all those layers of fat which would distribute (and thus lessen) my blow. He screams and falls, and one of the teachers comes running over.

"She hit me…" He starts crying to the teacher, and points at me.

"He was assaulting me first, I defended myself." I try to explain, but she doesn't understand.

"I don't believe this… your first day here, and you're already in a fight." The teacher glares at me, obviously ready to believe the testimony of the bully over me. Maybe it's because she can't understand me, or maybe it's because he's crying. Nobody else seems willing to say anything, either.

"To the office with you… we're calling your parents."

My heart sinks as I hear this. Jon is going to be very mad…and Daddy will be too. Daddy trusted me to behave myself, and I really did try… but he was pushing me around, and I don't like to be pushed.

They leave me in the outside office while they call, and then I have to sit and wait. It's nearly half an hour, and then Jon walks in, alone.

He walks past me and up to the desk. "Hello… I'm here to pick up Charley Tucker."

This is not good. If Daddy was here, I'd have a chance to explain, but without him… I don't think Jon wants to listen to any explanations. He was a captain… captains give orders and those orders are obeyed.

The lady looks over at me, then back at Jon. "You're her father?"

While it's good to know that they wouldn't send me away with a stranger, I know that if I _don't_ let Jon take me home, that it will probably cause _more_ problems – and the last thing I need to do is cause Daddy more problems than I already have. I nod, and she takes my confirmation as proof, offering no protest when Jon and I leave together.

He says nothing to me until we are in the car. "What did I say to you the other day?"

I pull a pad out of my knapsack. _He was…_

"I don't want to hear excuses, Ivy. You were told that fighting was unacceptable behaviour, were you not?"

I nod.

"There must have been some other way to solve it…"

_Like what? Scream for help? He was hurting me._

"You could have walked away… gone to a teacher. Hitting that boy only made things worse. I don't like bullies, Ivy… and while I admit that it sounds like that boy is one, you can't make things better by beating him up. Because right now, in their view, _you_ are the bully. _You_ hurt _him_."

_But_…

"Ivy," Jon interrupts me before I can finish. "All they know about you comes from your assessment test, and any information they might have received from Vulcan. And I happen to _know_ that back there you were perceived as being violent and irrational. _That's_ what they're working from… and you gave them no reason to think otherwise. You couldn't even get through one day…_one day_, without getting into a fight. What am _I_ supposed to believe? I already know you don't think before you act… to me this just looks like the same thing."

I pull my feet up onto the seat and put my head down on my knees. I want to disappear right now… I wish I'd never been born. It seems that no matter what I do, it only causes more trouble. I've broken the rules, now Jon will probably send us away… or maybe just send me away. I don't want to cry… I _won't _cry. Because Jon is right… he _did_ tell me that there would be consequences for fighting, and I did it anyway. I'm a big girl – as Daddy says – and I will take my punishment.

"Get your feet off the seat and put your seatbelt on." Jon starts the car, and I do what he says. I'm in enough trouble as it is… I don't need to make more.

We drive downtown, to Dr. Lewis' building. I assume we're here to wait for Daddy, but Jon gets out of the car, and tells me to come with him.

Dr. Lewis' office is on the twenty-second floor, and Jon says nothing to me for as long as it takes to get there. Even while we are in the waiting room, he doesn't say anything. After a while, Daddy comes out, and stops dead when he sees us. "Jon… Ivy… what?" He looks at his watch, confused.

"Ivy was in a fight." Jon doesn't waste any time explaining, and Daddy's face crumbles.

"Ivy. It was your first day." I've disappointed him, which hurts even more than Jon's anger. Daddy's usually so proud of me, that his disappointment is the worst thing in the universe. I've always feared it: more than his anger, more than Mother's disapproval. He had faith in me, and I have betrayed that faith.

"Is there a problem?" A lady emerges from the hallway behind Daddy. She's tall and skinny, and she has the darkest skin I've ever seen – it's almost the colour of the sky between the stars. Her hair is curly and white, and she keeps it short. This contrast in colours makes her beautiful, and she moves with an easy grace.

Daddy looks a little startled. "This is Jon, and this is my daughter Ivy. Apparently Ivy was in a fight today."

The lady nods, and goes over to speak to the receptionist. She returns a moment later.

"I have a short time before my next client… would you mind if I took some time to speak with Ivy?"

Daddy blinks rapidly… this clearly wasn't what he expected. "Certainly… go ahead." He crouches down to put himself on my eye level. "Ivy, this is Dr. Lewis. She just wants to talk to you about a couple of things, okay?"

I nod, and Dr. Lewis leads me down the hall to one of the rooms. There's a couple of chairs, and a soft couch, and a small desk in the corner.

"So… you were in a fight today, Ivy?" She speaks with her hands, letting me know with a few simple gestures that she can understand me.

"Yes. A boy pushed me and called me names."

"And why did this upset you?"

I'm confused. If Dr. Lewis is a psychiatrist, like Daddy said, then shouldn't she know that already? "Is it not supposed to?"

"It can." She says gently, "I just wanted to know if you knew _why_ in particular the names he called you upset you so much."

I don't know how to explain it… I just know that they hurt.

"It's not easy, being different, is it, Ivy? Not being able to fit in?"

I shake my head. I didn't fit in on Vulcan because I'm emotional… I thought I might fit in on Earth, but I'm _still_ too different. It seems like I know all the wrong things, that I _am_ all the wrong things. Like I am a mistake, and I don't know how to fix it. I tell this to Dr. Lewis, and she nods.

"Do you think that made it okay to hit him?"

"I didn't hit him because he called me names, I hit him because he was pushing me." Why can't anyone seem to understand that?

"Is that the _only _reason you hit him, Ivy? Because he pushed you? Or was it also because you were angry?"

"_He was pushing me!_" This is a useless conversation, because Dr. Lewis has clearly made up her mind about me.

"Are you angry now, Ivy?" She sounds calm and unflustered, just like Mother always does.

"Why shouldn't I be? _You_ obviously think it was my fault, and you don't even know me. You weren't there… you don't know what happened."

"Are you angry, or are you scared?" Her question stops me cold. Why would I be scared?

"Because in my experience, anger is quite commonly a reaction to fear. When we feel threatened, we get angry. Have you ever heard the term 'fight or flight?'"

I shake my head.

"It's a theory that says when creatures are scared they respond either by attacking or running away. People often react in the same way." She smiles suddenly, showing another contrast – perfectly white teeth. "I bet you get angry most often when people don't understand you."

"I'm used to not being understood."

"I don't think so, Ivy. You might be accustomed to using another language, but that's not what I mean. From what your father has told me, you haven't had a lot of people to discuss your feelings with, have you?"

"I have Daddy."

"Yes," she nods slowly, "but you worry about him, don't you? So, I bet you don't tell him everything."

I shake my head again. No, I don't tell Daddy everything. I _can't_ tell Daddy everything… some of it would just hurt him.

"It's one thing to _have_ emotions, Ivy… it's quite another thing to understand them. A lot of people _don't_ understand them… and that can lead to problems. But when we start to understand, we can start to control…"

I roll my eyes. Why is it everybody is telling me to control my emotions? I don't _want_ to control my emotions. I want to be able to feel.

"Ivy… you do seem to have a talent for jumping to conclusions, don't you?" Dr. Lewis seems to know exactly what I was thinking. "What I was saying is that when we understand, we can start to control our _reaction_ to those feelings. It's not about controlling the feelings themselves… it's about managing what we do when we experience them." She smiles again. "Lord knows, I'm not Vulcan. I believe in the expression of emotion… in humans it can do _more_ damage to repress them. That doesn't mean that there aren't some valid points in Vulcan philosophy, however. You've learned breathing and meditation techniques?"

I nod, slowly.

"They can be very helpful. Sometimes when we get too emotional, we forget to think. Our body goes into a panic mode, and our brain starts operating differently. By simply breathing properly, we can calm ourselves down enough to be able to think. Now… from what I can gather, you haven't really had much of an outlet for your emotions, have you?"

"Outlet?"

"Something to channel them into. Some people use sports… others use artistic pursuits… some people work."

"No." Nobody's ever told me that you _could_ do such a thing. I've seen Daddy work on a problem when he was upset… or fix something around the house, but I never knew that he did it _because_ he was upset.

"Well… I'm going to talk to your father and see about setting you up with a regular appointment. And we'll see if we can't find you something… in the meantime, it might help you to be able to talk about how you're feeling. Is that okay with you?"

I nod, realising that if I do talk to Dr. Lewis, then Jon might believe that I really _do_ want to obey his rules, and he won't make me go away.

"I'm not saying it will be easy, Ivy. It will probably be very, very hard… and you'll have to work at it. I don't have a lot of patience or time for excuses, and you won't be doing either of us any favours. But if you try to fight everybody who hurts you or makes fun of you… well, I'm sorry to say that you can't do that, Ivy."

The problem is, that I don't know what else _to_ do. I've tried ignoring it — like Daddy says to — and I've tried suppressing my anger — like Mother suggested — but none of it works. The only thing that makes them shut up… that makes them go away is to hurt them back. I try telling this to Dr. Lewis, but she just shakes her head.

"No, Ivy. Hurting them back only makes things worse. Are you in less trouble now, or more? And the boy… he's just as likely to try and hurt you more now, because you've humiliated him. Now I know it's hard to do… but you have to make that effort."

She leaves to go talk to Daddy and Jon, and I sit there, wondering how this is supposed to help. I'm willing to try almost anything though… as long as I can keep being able to feel. If I stop… all I know is that that option is worse than hitting back. I can't go that way… I don't have the words to describe it… but I just can't do it.


	7. The Talk

Disclaimer: I do not own the Enterprise characters. I do not make any money doing this.

A/N: Exploded Pen, this one's for you.

Chapter 7: The Talk

When we get home, there's a car sitting at the curb. Jon looks at it and groans. "Oh, God… I was afraid of this."

"What?" I see Daddy's eyes have gone to the step where a short, blonde lady is standing up. She begins running toward our car, and Daddy grins. "Nicci."

"Closer to Nitti, I'd say." Jon mutters. I don't know what he means by this, but it sounds like an insult.

The lady gets to the car and begins pounding on the window. I can see now that she's not totally blonde – there's lots of colours mixed into her hair. Daddy rolls down the window and the lady leans in and gives him a big hug. "Hey, Squirrel." Daddy hugs her back. In the mirror I see Jon rolling his eyes.

I tap Daddy on the shoulder to get his attention. "Squirrel?" It seems like a strange name, especially since I have learned recently that squirrels are small rodents.

Daddy laughs. "It's a nickname, punk. Like Ivy."

"Or Trip." The lady says. She slaps Daddy in the back of the head. "Why didn't you say you were coming back? You could've stayed with us instead of this stiff…"

"Yeah, I'm sure that would have done _wonders_ for his mental state," Jon interrupts her.

"Hey, don't you two start." Daddy bats at both of them, then gets out of the car.

"We're not starting," the lady protests, "we're continuing."

I'm impressed… I never thought of using that one when Lorien and I were fighting.

Daddy gives her a strange look, then pulls her into a headlock. They begin mock fighting on the sidewalk, even though Daddy's a very bad fighter.

"You know it always confused me why she never turns him into SPAM when he does that." A voice beside Jon's window makes both of us jump. A dark haired man crouches next to the car – he's either crouching or he's very, very short. He has a strange way of speaking, too… different than Daddy, or Jon.

"There is no explanation for those two." Jon answers back. He extends a hand through the window. "Good to see you again, Malcolm. It looks like you're surviving the Terror rather well."

Malcolm shrugs, but a smile appears on his face. "She's mellowed. And they're not so bad when they're apart, you know."

"Yeah, but together, they're a force dangerous to society." Jon says darkly. Malcolm laughs.

"By the way," Jon twists in his seat to look at me, "Malcolm, this is Ivy. Ivy, this is Malcolm."

Malcolm puts his hand in the window, but he looks uncertain. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ivy."

I shake his hand. I know he can tell I'm at least _part_ Vulcan, and most Vulcans do avoid personal contact. Maybe it's because touching and feeling are alike somehow… I don't know. But humans shake hands for a greeting, and I'm part human as well. It's another thing Mother had problems with. Daddy says I'm a 'tactile person' which he said means I like to feel things. Malcolm's grip is very strong, even though he's trying to be careful. It doesn't match his face at all.

I look over again, and Daddy and the lady have disappeared. I tug on Jon's sleeve to let him know that they're gone.

"Uh-oh." Jon nearly knocks Malcolm over as he throws the door open. "They're gone. God only knows what they're up to. And I'm not certain He's sure." He scrambles out of the car and they take off at a jog towards the house. I follow after them, because I want to find Daddy. Jon races inside, then I hear him yelling.

"Put down the tools, and back away from the garage door opener."

"But Jon..." I can hear Daddy protesting.

"I don't _care_ that it's broken... the two of you are _not_ going to fix it."

"So, correct me if I'm wrong," This time it's the lady's voice. "But what you're saying is that you'll trust us with an anti-matter reactor, but you won't allow us to work on a simple piece of electronic equipment."

"That's because I want it to _stay_ a simple piece of electronic equipment." I walk in to find Jon confiscating the tools from Daddy. "I don't want it to be turbo-charged, ultra-interactive and with fifteen types of back-up power and an entertainment system. I want it to open the garage door."

"We _can_ do that, if that's what you really want." Daddy snorts with laughter as the lady replies to Jon.

"I'd rather you didn't. I'll call a professional."

"Jon," Daddy sounds insulted. "Both of us are highly certified warp field and orbital engineers. We _are_ professionals."

"Professionals at destruction," Jon mutters.

"Erm…" This time it's Malcolm who responds. "That would be _my_ profession… please don't insult it by bringing those two into it."

Suddenly I think that 'Squirrel' is a good name for this lady – because she _is_ a rodent. Not only has she gotten Daddy into trouble, but he seems completely unaware that I'm here. He hasn't even taken the time to properly introduce me, and even Jon knew to do that. I turn and walk back into the house, slamming the door behind me.

"I think somebody's a little upset." It's the squirrel talking, and she sounds like she's laughing. I decide I need to leave before I do something bad. I go up into the attic – mostly because Jon has said it's a place I'm not supposed to go, because it might be dangerous. I don't think they'll look for me there, and I don't want to have to sit and pretend to be nice to that person.

"Ivy!" I hear Daddy calling for me, but I pretend not to. Instead I start exploring the attic. There's a lot of old furniture up here, and spiders. Daddy might not like spiders, but I do. Right now they seem like good company. I find a rug piled up and tossed in the corner, and drape it over some of the furniture to give me a place to hide if they do decide to look for me up here – Jon might just decide to look after all.

There's interesting things up here, including some old pictures of Mother and Daddy and Jon. There's even some of Malcolm – there's pictures of people I've never met. There's some pictures of the rodent, too. I think about destroying them, but instead I stuff them down in a corner behind some junk – mostly because Daddy's in them too, and while I'm mad at him, I won't wreck him. Then I spend some time looking at the rest of the pictures. Daddy looks happy in most of them, even the ones where he's with Mother. Again I wonder if it would have been different if I hadn't come along. If I had never been born. After all, Daddy was happy again today, especially when he didn't notice I was there. I wonder if I could stay up here forever and if anyone would come to look. I find some cushions and put them on the floor in my hiding place. Some dust puffs out of them and makes me sneeze. But it's _my_ space now, a place that's all my own.

After a long time, I hear the car drive away. I'm hungry now, so I come downstairs and find Daddy waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Where were you, punk?" He's wearing his 'Father' look, the one that he gets when he's only a bit angry with me.

I shrug, and his face gets angrier. "Don't just shrug. You were very rude today, Ivy."

"So?" I shrug again. As far as I'm concerned it was the rodent that was rude, not me. _She_ was the one laughing at people.

"Not 'so.' You know better than that, Ivy. I'm very disappointed in you."

"I'm disappointed in you, too," I tell him. "You were rude to me."

"Nic is one of Daddy's oldest friends. I've known her longer even than I've known Jon. You could have at least said hello before you went storming off."

"I didn't want to. I don't like her."

"You don't even _know_ her, Ivy." Daddy sounds frustrated.

"I still don't like her. And you can't make me. She's a bitch."

"Ivy!" Daddy snaps. "You apologise right now!"

"No!" I'm allowed my opinion. "I _won't_."

"Charley Elizabeth T'Mir Tucker, you apologise _right now_! Now you've been told that sort of language is unacceptable, and you will _not_ talk that way about people."

"I _won't_. I hate her, I hate her, I _hate_ her." Daddy reaches out to grab my hands and I hit him across the face. He barely has time to look surprised before Jon comes up behind me and scoops me up. He carries me to the room Daddy and I are staying in and places me inside. Then he walks out and pulls the door shut behind him.

I try to open the door, but he must be holding it, because I can't make it budge. I begin to pound on it with my fists and kick it, but he doesn't let go.

"Jon," I hear Daddy outside, protesting.

"I don't want to hear it, Trip." Jon sounds very angry, but very calm at the same time.

I pick up a vase from one of the tables and throw it against the door. It breaks into dozens of pieces, making lots of noise. I begin breaking other things, but he doesn't come in to stop me.

"Jon, she's going to hurt herself." Daddy sounds worried now, almost in a panic.

"Then let her hurt herself. It's a lesson she needs to learn."

I resume pounding on the door, even throwing my body against it.

"Jon, that's..."

Jon's voice doesn't change. "There's another bedroom down the hall. If you want to throw your own temper tantrum, you can do it there. And put some ice on that. It's going to bruise."

I hear Daddy stomping away, but Jon still won't open the door. After a while I can't do it any more. I lie down on the floor, exhausted. Only then does Jon open the door; I'm too tired to move, so he has to push me out of the way a bit. He comes in and sits down on the floor beside me.

"Have you calmed down now?"

I nod. Jon's been learning some words every day, but he still doesn't know much.

"Good. I don't want to have to do that again. Now go to bed... you've got school in the morning. And don't cut yourself on that glass." He stands up and leaves, and I lie there thinking about what he just said. He didn't yell at me like Daddy would, or lecture me like Mother. He's given me nothing to fight against – once again he has simply informed me of the way things are and we can have no argument. He hasn't even said I was bad. I've got nothing to cling to, nothing to hate or be angry with. I haven't even managed to get a real reaction from him. Jon has taught me what my engineer father and scientist mother could not: the concept of wasted energy.


	8. The Discovery

Disclaimer: I do not own Enterprise or its characters. This is for entertainment only.

Author's note: Yes, complete. shugs, but with enigmatic smile

**C****hapter 8: The Discovery**

Daddy's not there when I finally wake up, and I wonder what's happened to him. I creep out and through the dark hallway into the living room – there's another couch there – but I don't see any sign of him. I check in the kitchen, getting myself a glass of water, because I'm so thirsty, but I don't find him there either.

I'm worried. Jon should have made me go away, not Daddy. I decide I'll have to ask Jon, get him to tell me where my Daddy is.

As I approach Jon's bedroom, I hear something strange. It sounds like _two_ people breathing. I move silently up to the door and listen more closely. One of them is snoring, and it sounds like the way Daddy snores. But wasn't Jon mad at Daddy?

I open the door slowly, praying that I don't wake them up. There's just enough moonlight for me to see: Daddy and Jon are lying on the bed together, and though there's blankets over most of them, I can see that Daddy has his arms around Jon. I back out and close the door slowly, then sit down on the floor of the hallway trying to figure out what this means.

**A:** When Daddy and Mother stopped loving each other, they sometimes slept in different rooms. This must mean that when grown ups love each other, they sleep in the same room.

**B:** Daddy said he loved Jon, and Jon said he loved Daddy… but they still didn't sleep in the same room, even though Jon let us live in his house. This must mean that Daddy and Jon weren't really sure that they loved each other. After all, Jon said it had been eight years, and that's a lifetime.

**C:** Daddy and Jon are now sleeping together. Therefore, they must have decided that they _do_ love each other.

So the question becomes: if Daddy and Jon love each other, is there space here for me? Because I don't want to hurt Daddy – I feel really bad about what I did to him earlier – and I know he's happier when somebody loves him.

I still don't have an answer by the time the sun comes up, so instead I go back to the kitchen and make some toast (I can use the toaster, but Jon says I'm still not allowed to use the stove or the oven) and pour some orange juice. I put the toast and orange juice on a tray, and walk carefully down the hall, so I don't spill it. I put the tray down to open the door, but when I go inside, my hands are full with the tray and a gust of wind through the open window knocks the door shut.

Daddy jerks awake at the noise, then he sees me and his eyes go wide, and he starts covering Jon and himself even more under blankets. "Damnit, Ivy… haven't I told you that when there's a closed door you should knock?"

I can't answer him because my hands are full. Jon wakes up too, and seems to be watching me. Daddy's turned bright red, but Jon seems absolutely calm.

"Is that breakfast, Ivy? It looks good." He moves over so there's a space on the bed that I can put the tray onto. This means he moves closer to Daddy, who inches even farther away, like he's scared. This means that the blankets pull away from Jon, and I can see that he's not wearing a shirt.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Now that my hands are free, I can ask.

"I… um…"

"Yeah, what's wrong, Trip?" Jon's learned enough to understand my simple question.

I'm confused now. "I thought you said you loved Jon, Daddy."

Jon looks like he's trying not to laugh. "I do think you said that, Trip. In fact I remember rather clearly last…"

"Ivy, honey," Daddy interrupts Jon, even though he always tells me that it isn't nice to interrupt. "Sometimes when grown-ups…"

"Sometimes when grown-ups love each other, they sleep in the same room." I broach my hypothesis from last night. "You and Mother used to sleep together when you loved each other, and you were happy. Now you and Jon are sleeping together… doesn't that mean you love him?"

Jon twists around to look at Daddy – he can't keep up with such a long conversation yet.

"That's true, Ivy…" Daddy says, cautiously. He quickly explains to Jon what I just said, and Jon confirms Daddy's statement.

"You're right, Ivy, and your Daddy and I love each other very much."

"Oh." I nod. I know Lorien and I came from Mother and Daddy loving each other a lot, but my biology teacher says it needs a male and a female, and Daddy and Jon are both males, so I don't think that there will be another child from this. "Can I have a puppy?"

Daddy looks at me strangely, but when he translates for Jon, Jon bursts out laughing. "What?"

"Well, I don't think I can ask if I will get a new brother or sister… so can I have a puppy instead?" I don't know why Jon's laughing, because I didn't mean to tell a joke.

Daddy still looks like he's confused, but Jon starts laughing harder. "I'll tell you what, Ivy…" He finally stops laughing enough to talk. "…we'll talk about that later, okay? In the meantime you go get ready for school, and we'll give your Daddy some time to get his dignity back, okay?"

"Okay." I don't know why Daddy's so embarrassed, anymore than I know what Jon finds so funny, but I go. I close the door behind me, and I can hear Jon laughing again.

"A puppy? I gotta admit, that's the first time I've ever heard something like that. Calm down, Trip… she seems to be taking it okay." Suddenly I hear the springs on the bed move, and Jon's laughter gets muffled, like there's a pillow over his face or something. "Okay, okay." The pillow must have been taken away, because his voice is clearer now. "God, if you could only see the look on your face… Trip, this kid of yours is growing more and more on me every day. A puppy!" His laughter gets muffled again, and I go back to my room. I don't know if I'll get a puppy, but I'm pretty sure that I'll be allowed to stay.

Jon says that he's not sure if I'm ready to have a puppy yet, because puppies are big responsibilities. I know _he_ used to have a puppy… there are pictures of it in the attic, a little brown and white and gold coloured dog with floppy ears. Some of the pictures have labels, and one of them says that the puppy was called Porthos. I ask what happened to Porthos (I spell out his name, from how I remember it on the picture), because I've never seen him, and Jon suddenly gets very sad.

"Porthos died, Ivy. He was very old… dogs age differently than humans do, just like humans age differently than Vulcans do. I still miss him… Porthos was a good friend."

"Oh." This is probably another reason why Jon doesn't want me to have a puppy, because it will remind him of Porthos. _I don't really need a puppy. I was just asking._ I write this last part down because I don't know if Jon will know all the words. I've seen Jon happy and angry and frustrated… but I've never seen him sad before. I pat him on the hand and get together the rest of my things for school.

We're on a field trip to 'The Conservatory' to learn about different animals. Daddy has come along to help out, and translate any questions I have for the guide. Then I see them, in a corner away from where we are. I know I'm not supposed to leave the group, but I have to get a closer look… they can't be real.

"Ivy…" Daddy chases after me, but I ignore him. I stop at the fence and climb up to get a better view. Daddy sees what I'm looking at and slows down, finally stopping beside me.

"Kind of funny looking, huh?"

I shake my head. They're beautiful, with long legs and necks and graceful curves. But most of all… they're a bright shade of pink, just like my magic feather. I reluctantly climb off the fence, because there's so much I need to know. "What are they, Daddy?"

"They're called flamingos, punk. They're from Florida, just like Daddy."

"But they're _pink_." I've never seen a bird that was so pink before. Birds come in lots of colours – brown, blue, green, orange, yellow, red… but these are a magical bright pink, all over except for their legs and their beaks. True, some of them have streaks of white in their feathers, but mostly, "They're _pink_."

Daddy looks at me – I'm wearing my favourite shirt today and it's bright pink. He must think I like the birds because they're my favourite colour… but pink is my favourite colour because of my feather. "It's from eating so much shrimp. The colour gets into their feathers and turns it pink."

"Oh, Daddy, can I have one?" I climb up on the fence again for a moment, I have to look.

He laughs a little. "No, punk… you cannot have a flamingo."

I jump down again. "Please, Daddy? Please, please, please? I'll never ask you for anything else again, I'll be so good, please Daddy?" I start jumping up and down, I want it so badly.

He crouches down so we're at the same eye level. There's a bit of a smile on his lips, but he shakes his head. "No. No flamingos, Ivy. For one thing, it's against the law to keep them as pets. And they're hard to housetrain, and I don't think Jon would appreciate flamingo poop all over his carpet. I'll try and talk him into a puppy for you…"

"No, Daddy, I don't _want_ a puppy. I want a flamingo."

"No." He straightens up, and I know I can't have a flamingo.

I sigh and try not to be too disappointed. I reach up and take his hand, and slowly we walk back to the rest of the group, though I keep looking back. One time I think I see a man watching the flamingos, but when I look again, he's gone.

We don't make it back to the flamingos… there's too many other animals that we're supposed to learn about, and somehow flamingos aren't on the list. I try not to be too bored as the guide teaches us about crocodiles – which are also from Florida – and giraffes – which aren't. The giraffes are okay… they've got long legs and necks like flamingos, and they're the only animal I've seen that seems to be put together out of pillars and triangles, which seems to me to be an odd evolutionary geometry. But even the tarantulas aren't that much fun, though I'm the only girl who seems willing to hold one, and Daddy keeps his eyes closed the entire time.

"You can't have a tarantula, either, punk." He answers me before I can ask. But that's okay, because I've got enough spiders in the attic. Its feet are very soft as it walks along my hand, I can barely feel them. The guide tells us that they barely ever leave tracks in the desert sand, which is enough for me not to want one. I don't want a desert creature, even if it _is_ a spider.

It takes us a long time, as we learn about bats – I already knew some from Daddy's old comic books – but up close they look different. I like the sound they make, chattering amongst themselves, but it's too high in the hertz scale for anyone else to really hear it. We also find out about horses – the guide shows us pictures of people using them for transportation, and Daddy shakes his head.

"It's not as easy as it looks," he mutters. I look up at him, and he ruffles my hair. "I'll explain later, punk."

Finally, when we're done with elephants and kangaroos – I don't like kangaroos, they remind me of the squirrel – we go outside and prepare to go back to school.

Daddy sees it before I do: Jon's car is parked near the bus, and Jon's standing beside it with his hands behind his back. We detour over to Jon, while the rest of the class starts getting on the bus.

"Something wrong, Jon?" Daddy looks worried.

"Oh, nothing. I just had something for Ivy, that I thought she'd like."

I'm hoping it's not a puppy, when he pulls his hands from behind his back. It can't be a puppy, because I'm sure that puppies don't come in bags from the Conservatory gift shop. He hands me the bag and I peek inside.

I throw my arms around Jon and hug him, before reaching into the bag and pulling it out. It's a small toy flamingo, all soft and pink, and I hug it tight.

"Jon." I don't know how to describe Daddy's tone… it's like he's frustrated and happy at the same time. "You know you didn't have to do that."

Jon kisses Daddy on the forehead. "I know. But it's just a little thing, and I want our little girl to be happy."

Daddy looks at Jon in wonder. "Our… _our_…" He throws his arms around Jon. "Oh, Jon…" He hugs Jon tight, and tears fill his eyes, but I think they're happy tears, because he's smiling.

And they don't even argue when I insist on wearing pink to the wedding.


End file.
